


and still so many things i want to say

by darlathecyborgpluviophile



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Near Death, Nightmares, Repressed Memories, Vignette, aerith lives au, tags and description may update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlathecyborgpluviophile/pseuds/darlathecyborgpluviophile
Summary: She shifts positions, only to bump up against Cloud and Tifa crammed in close on either side of her.And then she remembers: the altar.





	and still so many things i want to say

Metal scrapes against the stone floor of the altar.

It’s the loudest sound Aerith has ever heard in her life.

Her eyes still closed, she’s knocked viciously hard against the railing. Her hands fumble out, searching for a lifeline amidst the slippery marble. Distantly, she can feel her hair cascade down her shoulders, pulled free from its sloppy braid—truth be told, she hadn’t been focused on doing her hair up properly before coming to this place.

There are shouts from beside her, guttural battle cries and the growling of something far more menacing, but she can’t find the strength to open her eyes. Energy—the spirits of her ancestors taking up residence in her being, tendrils of the Lifestream that were flowing through her, giving her the vitality possible to complete her prayer—slips out with every breath she takes, every moment her heart continues to beat.

Aerith releases her grip on the altar railing, falls to the floor and succumbs to a creeping fatigue.

 

******

 

Aerith’s earliest recollection of her mother is steeped in fear.  

The memory’s mostly blurry at this point, but when she closes her eyes she sees glass walls, concave all around her. Beyond them there’s a group of scientists, all huddled together like they need the warmth to survive. Some of them have clipboards, scribbling furiously down on them; some of them have little black boxes on their belts that make a funny crackling noise. Some of them are holding tools that have been used inside her prison before; often on her mother, only occasionally on her.

There are noises she’s tried so hard to forget echoing around the little glass cell. Pained whimpers and steady male voices. Half-sobs. The scratching of fabric against the metal floor.

Peripherally, she can see her mother’s purple sash discarded carelessly near her own tiny, knobby knees. More than anything, she wants to reach out and take it, but that would just drive home the point that something is _wrong_ , that something horrible is happening right next to her _like it always is_ and she’s too _afraid_ to do anything about it.

She refuses to look, even when her mother’s whines turn into outright screams.

She pulls her knees close to her chest, not even caring about the fact that she’s wearing a dress and likely exposing herself to the throng of people peering in at her. She wraps her arms around her legs and closes her eyes, praying to the little voice sleeping in the back of her head for everything to just _stop_.

 

******

 

It’s 5 a.m. when Aerith wakes up, the memory-turned-nightmare still playing in her mind. _Why now_ , she wonders; the memory of Hojo and his goons torturing her mother is something she hasn’t thought about in a long while, opting to bury it deep under gratitude for the rest of her childhood going alright.

Aerith takes a deep breath; her exhale fogs out in front of her, like a ghost. If she closes her eyes, she can hear a soft pattering on the top of the tent—not the pelting of rain, but a light fall of snow. She’s never seen snow in person, before.

She shifts positions, only to bump up against Cloud and Tifa crammed in close on either side of her.

And then she remembers: the altar.

How close to sacrifice she was. How the two of them have been glued to her since. That might explain why such terrible things and repressed memories have started slipping into her conscious thought.

Aerith shifts down a little bit and opts to snuggle into Cloud for the time being. Even with the residual sweat from the nightmare still clinging to her, she feels comfortably warm sandwiched in the middle of her two favorite people. Cloud doesn’t smell great, but it’s unlikely any of them do at this point; she sure as hell hasn’t had a shower since before the trip to the Temple, and it’s probably been almost as long for everyone else.

She runs a hand through her bangs, pushing them out of her face, and slings an arm around the man beside her.

God.

She was so close. So willing to give up her life. She still is, if she’s being honest; if the choice is between her or Holy, she will always choose Holy, no matter how difficult. No matter if it means losing mornings like this, never to wake wrapped in the arms of her loves again.

Aerith wonders if her mother ever felt this way. If maybe she knew when they escaped that it would be the last thing she would ever do. If, in her eyes, getting Aerith to a safe haven was tantamount to her own quest to save the world. A shudder runs through her.

Behind her Tifa shifts, and before Aerith knows it she has a muscled arm around her own waist. Tifa’s hand, ungloved and calloused, finds a resting spot just above her navel, petting the bare skin where her sleep shirt rides up. Aerith brings her hand down to twine with hers.

No hole. No sword wound.

She’s safe.

Aerith takes another deep breath to ground herself, echoing back to all the times she’s had to bring herself back to life after visions in the church.

She tightens her grip on Cloud and Tifa, and tries to get some more sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not one of those people who believes that Aerith's death was like, poorly written or unfeminist or whatever, but this little story hasn't left me alone for months. There might be more to come?? I'm thinking of turning this into a general claeriti drabble fic but this is the only drabble about them I've actually sat down and written so lmao we'll see
> 
> Title is from [ this Billy Joel song, ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gav66byYJMw) which is a beautiful Aerith song imo.
> 
> I know I'm currently back in UT hell but feel free to [ hmu on my tumblr any time ](https://cyborgpluviophile.tumblr.com/) to cry about Final Fantasy characters :3c


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